


Under the Oaken Bower

by geekinlikeaboss



Category: AU - Fandom, Alternate Universe - Fandom, Frostiron - Fandom, Loki - Fandom, MCU, Marvel, Tony Stark - Fandom
Genre: AU, Contracts, Fairy, FrostIron - Freeform, Loki - Freeform, M/M, Mild BDSM, NSFW, Priest, Thor - Freeform, binding, demon, tony - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-16
Updated: 2015-09-08
Packaged: 2018-03-13 07:19:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3372668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geekinlikeaboss/pseuds/geekinlikeaboss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a life spent in excess, Anthony turns to the priesthood to make up for a terrible transgression. But even a life spent as a monk can not take away his sense of right and wrong. When Anthony comes face to face with the sins mankind visits upon one another, he enters into a bargain with a capricious entity. The price for his loyalty is high, but Anthony finds himself more and more willing to pay.</p><p>NOTE: The song ''Do Virgins Taste Better'' is by the Brobdignagian Bards! Look it up on youtube!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lotolle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lotolle/gifts).



**I**

Another month, another deal ill made by moonlight.

Anthony was struggling with whether or not he had made the right choice.

He pulled the hood back, eyeing his surroundings in the glen beneath the oak tree. The stars shone like little lamps in the inky blue sky. The moon hung full and gave everything a silvery glow. On any other night there would be crickets and the chattering of woodland creatures. Perhaps the howl of a wolf off in the distance, far from human interaction. The woods were still and silent and it set his skin on edge.

There was a soft whistling in the trees above him and Anthony shivered. He knew that tune. It was one of the little bawdies the women sang in the market stalls of the town. A soft, lilting voice was singing to itself.

 _Do virgins taste better than those who are not?_  
Are they salty, or sweeter, more juicy or what?  
Do you savor them slowly? Gulp them down on the spot?  
Do virgins taste better than those who are not?

It was positively lewd and Anthony made the sign of the cross over his chest to defend himself from impure thoughts.

“Ah, my sweet mortal has come for a tryst.” The voice said and a pair of poison green eye watched him. Even with the moonlight, Anthony’s eyes could not pierce the bower of the trees. “Perhaps you’ve another gift to give me? A lock of your fine hair? A ruby red drop of your blood?”

Anthony gripped the iron cross around the rosary as if to defend himself, but released it as he saw the eyes narrow at him. He steeled his resolve. “This time is different. Far more troubling.”

“But what could possibly be of more concern than philandering husbands and miserly landlords?” The voice held the cold mockery of someone who felt the sins of the people were a less than worthy problem. “Or perhaps you’d like to trouble the money lenders and prideful nobility.”

The priest frowned and shook his head. What had he expected? Entities such as this had no respect for human life or the faith they carried. It would be of more good to attempt to instill morality in a wolf than in such a capricious creature. “Nay. I come to you with a far greater and terrible trouble. I cannot begin to fathom the depths of such depravity. Yet I wager you would find it no more than a trifle.”

“I do excel in depravity.” A wry chuckle answered his distress. “But come priest, the moon grows thin. Tell me what you need of me and I shall say what I require to assuage you.”

Anthony ran a hand through his hair and began to explain. The Monastery of the Bleeding Nail was not intended to serve the people in the village along the coast. It was meant to confine and cloister it’s monks so that they might better contemplate the meaning of Christ’s sacrifice and thus devote their lives to praying for humanities many sins. But in Anthony’s years among the mons and friars, the monastery had become known for a more practical purpose.

When the village magister had come to offer tithe to the monastery, of course the brothers had accepted him. When he wished to give confession, again they accepted, though it was not the task appointed to them. It had become an irksome chore of the reputation their little order had gained. And if God called one to service, who were they to ignore his will.

And Anthony had been the one to hear him.

The confession had made his stomach so ill he could not break bread that night. It had weighed on his shoulders as the moon waxed as rumors filled even ears turned to scripture.

Murder.

“It is a foul and terrible deed. At first, little heed was paid for the unfortunate victims were only doxies. But now the villain has begun to take his victims from any poor maid he sees wandering out past dusk. And the things he does to them! Gods mercy be upon their souls.” Anthony shuddered at the thought. “They have been on the hunt for nearly six months with no clue. The magister is at his wits end. He prays for Gods intervention…”

“But your God does not oft intervene.” The creature surmised. “I seem to be doing a fair portion of his work these last few years. Perhaps I am a god?”

“Blasphemy.” Anthony muttered without any real heart behind it. He was used to these little offenses. “It cannot continue. The people are frightened to venture out their doors. Someone must stop this madman!”

“And you ask me to do the task.” A lithe figure moved from branch to branch, the leaves hardly shuddering at its passage. It seemed to be pacing, thinking on this new request.

“Can you do anything? Surely one such as yourself…with the power you hold.” Anthony sounded so hopeful he had to reign it in. It was best never to let a demon know how you felt about a situation. They would turn it to their advantage.

“My influence is limited in your world. It is only by the grace of the moon and the gifts you provide which allows me agency. And even then, only while the moon is full. But this…” The creature seemed to be pondering. “When the distraught good wife came to you and pleaded for her unfaithful husband, it took naught but a night to arrange for his member to become flaccid for any but his mate. When the fat mayor hoarded food during a famine, a few days were all I required to make his fields run fallow unless the grain were given to the poor. This, my mortal priest. This may require several inquiries, for you do not even know who wields the knife.”

“You require a greater price?” Anthony felt a churning in his gut. He should have realized it would come to this. The demon had left him a trail of breadcrumbs too tempting to ignore. Years of these little bargains for hair and blood and semen every month had amounted to much good being done for the people along the coast. That was all Anthony had ever wished was to do some good in this world. And for all he considered himself a godly man, the prayers and contemplations of the brotherhood did not change the fate of the people who toiled and labored for their meals.

The entity circled above. “My kind are no longer as welcome here as we once were. Your church bells and iron workings cast us from this world. We may only flit through the old woods where once we held great revels. I cannot linger. I cannot stay to fulfill this request…unless.”

Anthony could feel the wicked smile even if he could not see the flash of white teeth. “Out with it in God’s name!”

“Not in your god’s name, but in my own. If a mortal were to bond with me, I would share with him my true name.”

It was more than the monk could have hoped for. A demons name bound him to the callers will! He would be able to entreat his shadowed friend whenever he needed, like the saints of old. How much they could manage! The lives they could change! But still, there was something in the way the demon spoke. “You lie to a man of the church.” Anthony insisted, frowning.

“My kind do not lie. We cannot lie.” Again, that smile hidden in tones. “But we can twist words. If you were to bind with me, I would remain in this world for seven years, serving your desires. But in exchange, at the end of my tenure, you would in turn be subservient to me for seven times seven years.”

His chest seized hard. Nearly fifty years in the service of a demon of hell! What atrocities would the creature make him commit? Would he undo all the good Anthony had risked his soul ensuring? “Was this your plan all along? To ensnare a man of the church for your bidding?”

A hiss like a snake echoed in the glen. “I care as little for your temple of bricks and mortar as it cares for me. I care not what robes you wear nor for the symbol you clutch as if it would protect you from the ills of this world. Stay with your meek and humble brotherhood for all the good it will do you. And call not for me again.” There was the sound of something moving and Anthony could hear it getting further away.

“No! Wait!” He yelled after it, trying to see through the thick trees. A shadow moved nearly twenty feet from him and he lunged after it desperately. The thing moves like a rabbit from bush to bush, but Anthony was determined. He could not lose the one source he had to rid the people of this hateful murder! “Wait! I will pay your price! I swear it!”

The figure did not stop moving, but continued to flicker in shadows and trees. It paid him no mind, leaving the mortal priest in its dust.

Anthony wished he had worn something better to run in. His robes wrapped around his legs and inhibited his movement. He lifted them, trying not to lose sight of the movement. “Hold! Please!”

The ground moved beneath him and his foot was sucked into cold thickness. Anthony gasped and slid, his fingers trying to grab for purchase on the solid earth. A slick, sucking noise burbled in his ears and he felt himself being pulled under. The smell of rotting fish guts choked his senses. He gasped for air, and the last thing he saw before the surface closed around his face were two lambent green eyes watching him.

**II**

_There were few things to find joy in as one of the order. Your life was meant to be restrictive so that your mind would be turned to higher purpose. Meals were simple. Chores were mundane. Often times there was silence save for the chants and muttered prayers before the altar._

_But if one event could be said to hold levity, it was the midsummer feast of St John._

_It was one of the few occasions that the monks traveled into town as a group. They did not participate in the gaudy village festival, with its bright colored booths and foods and wine flowing easily. They did not dance or cavort as so many did throughout the days preceding the ceremony. The monks were there for but one purpose._

_People would fall silent in their revels as the monastic order would march through town, their hoods up to cover their faces and make them one of many. Anthony had known better but had still not been able to resist a peek at the dancing women in their scandalously short skirts and low chemise. If he had one vice in his old life, it had been women. If he could pick another, it would be wine. So the sight of such an abundance of both did cause stirrings he would be praying away later._

_As they passed through the streets, he would hear the muttered prayers and people would bow their heads out of respect and difference. Sometimes a person would break free from the crowd to quickly tuck a bit of parchment into the crook of a monk’s arm. The progression did not stop, but each scrap was tucked away into the folds of the robe._

_Anthony had to use all his resolve not to slow as a young girl, perhaps no older than eleven with quiet, downturned eyes, pulled from her parents and quickly stashed a scrawled note into his sleeve. Hey eyes were the color of polished amber, and as sad as a morning without sunlight. His gaze followed her as she returned to her place in the crowd._

_As their order proceeded, people began to break away from the party and follow. More would come at dusk, but for now it was only those who were most devout._

_As they reached the outskirts of the town, men brought huge hauls of logs to the clearing. Every log had to receive its own blessing and consecration before it could be placed neatly in the bonfire stack. As the monks fell into line, they retrieved the prayers from their robes and began to lay hands on the wood in turn. Hopes, dreams, and wishes flowed from their lips as they cut a notch in each log and tucked the papers into it. The fires would send the prayers to heaven, where God would hopefully chose to bless them._

_It was the third time Anthony had repeated this ceremony, and none of the prayers were surprising._

**_-Holy Father, please bless my business to overflow in the coming year-_ **

**_-God Almighty, please help my father’s malady to rest-_ **

**_-God, ensure that my wife does not prattle onto the neighbors-_ **

_And then, Anthony recognized the crumpled note the girl had handed him. He took it out and nearly gasped to read its content._

**_-Please God, make father stop coming to me at night-_ **

_It was the sort of thing that made one heartsick. He read it again and again until one of the brothers looked at him oddly for holding up the line. He could think of nothing else through the rest of the ritual. None of the other prayers seemed as important as this one. As dusk fell and the village came to watch the bonfire lightning, Anthony searched the crowd for the girl. She was not there, or perhaps he did not see her. He tried to remember what her parents had looked like, but could not in the sea of faces._

_The night passed and the monks prayed until dawn. Never had Anthony found himself more fervent in his devotion. The long walk back to the monastery did nothing to soothe his conscience, and it must have shown, for the Abbot spoke to him as they tended their duties._

_“Brother A_ _ntoninus_ _.”_

_Anthony had never been able to think of himself as his given namesake. He had hardly been saintly before joining the monastery. And while his life here was solemn, he had done nothing worthy of the name. Still, he rose and bowed. “Abbot.” He nodded, waiting to see if this was merely an acknowledgement in passing or if the head of their order wanted something from him._

_“I have noticed your position to be rather troubled since we returned from the village.”_

_Anthony reserved himself. “Forgive me, Abbot. I did not mean to be a distraction.”_

_“Is there something you would discuss with me? Something which plagues you so greatly that you find yourself distracted?” His tone was strict, but his eyes were inquisitive._

_Still… “I had merely wondered at all the prayers during the bonfire, Abbot. So many seem less about God’s great design and more about common desires.”_

_The Abbot nodded serenely, though he seemed to understand. “Such is the nature of the common man, who’s mind is distracted by the ebb and flow of his life. Most I think, would be more happy for an extra gold coin than they would of Gods grace.”_

_Anthony nodded, but his mind would not shake the image of the amber eyed child. “Some wish for better things. For the sorrows of their life to be lifted. For the troubles they endure to be, but a little less so.”_

_“We all have our crosses to bare, Brother A_ _ntoninus.”The Abbot reminded him. “The common folk would do well to trust in God’s plan. A lesson we could all do to keep in our memory.” He gave Anthony a sharp look._

_“Gods will above all.” He said dutifully, reciting the order’s manifest. “It is not in God’s plan that I would dare find fault. Only in that there are so many who will live their lives without their aspirations fulfilled.”_

_“They would be better served to find their fulfillment through God, and accept the lot he has given them.” The Abbot said as though repeating the lines to an old play. Still, he sighed. “You have not been with us long, Brother. I understand how difficult it can be to throw off your old life and accept the yoke of ones vows. Perhaps some time in quiet contemplation and solitude would do you good.”_

_His heart sank to the pit of his stomach. The thought of the room made him twitch._

_But fate was apparently kinder than that. “To the north of here, up the mountains, there is a small cabin. Often members of our order will retreat there to isolate themselves before taking their vows or perhaps to further commit themselves to the contemplation of the divine.” The Abbot inclined his head. “It would be my suggestion for you to take the rest of the summer there. Give yourself the time you require to discern where your mind is best occupied.”_

_Anthony took a deep breath of relief for himself, but still he could not shake his mind of a small child who would be spending another night in the hope that God would answer her prayers._

**III**

  
Anthony awoke sluggishly. He shifted, trying to remove the weight from his body only to find it much heavier than he would have thought a blanket should be. He struggled, surprised to feel organic materials meeting his touch. The blanket was made of thick, lush moss and pleasantly cool against the heat of the late summer air. The moon was heavy in the sky and he searched around to see what had happened.

A fire had been lit close by. In a wooden bowl lay berries, wild onions and spinach. A cup smelled of honey and tea and it made his mouth water. He had not seen treats like this in years, and yet he paused before touching it. The last thing he remembered was the bog pulling him down.

He could not swim.

How had he survived?

“Awake at last.” The voice was familiar and soft, almost careful. “You are lucky. Men like you are blind in these woods. I should have let the hags take you.”

“H-hags?” Anthony asked, looking around and spotting the green eyes almost instantly.

“Bog hags. They love to drown trespassers and pick the flesh from their bones bit by bit. Wicked ladies. And they smell of dead fish.” The figure came closer, now just out of view.

“Why didn’t you?”

The tall figure tilted it’s head. “You said you would accept my bargain.”

Anthony sat all the way up, than saw his wet robes drying in a tree. He turned red and shook reality back into himself. What would this creature care of he were nude? It wasn’t human. It didn’t think the same way human’s did. “I-I did. I intend to.”

“But you hesitated under the oak trees. Why? Have I not proven my capability? Have I been so much less than you expected?”

The tone was high and haughty. It was then that Anthony realized he had unintentionally insulted the entity. “Forgive me. You have been complicit in your dealings with me. You have never failed in your cunning to do as I asked.”

This seemed to satisfy the creature. It gestured with fingers far too long. “Eat. The bog hags drain a man’s strength and endurance so he will be easy prey. The food will nourish you.”

Anthony had to avoid falling on the food. The first taste was beyond compare. The vows of poverty the order took extended to their food. Plain fare had been his expectancy for the last several years and he had dearly missed such treats. The berries were so sweet and tart he wanted to suck the ripe black juice from his fingers. The wild onions had been roasted and were so strong and savory he could have sat and chewed on them endlessly. What he would have given for a cup of wine but even the tea was filled with herbs and warmed his blood greatly. Perhaps it was the effect of nearly dying, but he finished his meal with gusto and realized just how much better he felt.

The creature watched silently, but with an air of amusement. As Anthony finished, he prowled closer. “Now then, we must be about our business. The moon is falling. It will be dawn soon and both our brothers will come looking for us.”

It had never occurred to Anthony that his kind might have family. But that was neither here nor there. He swallowed the last of the tea and strengthened his resolve. “Very well.”

“You are still willing? You will provide me with the means I require to remain in this world?”

The monk hesitated just a moment. For years now he had spoken to a shadow with bright green eyes. They had never exchanged names nor pleasantries, merely bargained as a merchant and patron. Anthony’s father had always accused him of being far too curious than what was fit. Perhaps there were just some old habits one could never shake. “I wish to see you.”

The creature’s eyes widened.

“If we are to be saddled with one another, I would know to what I bind myself. Let me see you in the light. Let me know what manner of demon I have ensnared. Do this and I will swear here and now to provide what you require so long as you remain loyal to our bargain.”

“Ensnared.” The creature smiled, revealing small pointed canines. “What a delicious word.” And with that, he took a step forward.

Anthony had not thought about what to expect. It had seemed so obvious. The scriptures and drawings along the bible were full of red, horned creatures with beards and forked tongues, sporting great bat wings and hooved feet.

The only part that seemed to translate were the hooves and horns. But for those, his longtime assistant looked very little like any demon described. His hooves were horse like and his horns curved far back as did those of an ibex. His skin was not and ugly, bloody red but pale and beautiful as a pearl, deep blue woad tattoos elongating his frame. His features were not those of a monster, but refined and aquiline as long black curls framed his face.

The creature seemed abundantly aware of what a spectacle he made and smiled, opening his arms as though presenting himself. His pointed ears twitched delightedly. “Terrified?” he asked as though it would please him even more.

Anthony swallowed. Terrified? Oh yes. Desperately so! And yet there was a strange, otherworldly beauty to the creature. Anthony felt himself drawn to it as an artist to a canvas, as if he could touch it and assure himself of its realness. He felt in himself a twitching impulse to run his fingers over every last inch, if only to say he had. His eyes wandered the frame without modesty and realized that he and the creature shared something in common.

Apparently, the anatomy of a demon was not so far displaced from that of a human man.

The creature smiled to see where the human’s gaze had stopped. “Naughty priest.” He tsked and shook a long finger at him.

Anthony blushed. “I shall keep my bargain.” He said and looked away. “What must I do for us to bond? Is there some quest or artifact?” In the old stories, the saints had found something precious to the demons. His true name, a stone that was his heart or perhaps they would cut off the demons beard. Anything that would hold the creature to the will of a man and forbid him from doing harm.

The creature came closer and it’s hand caressed along Anthony’s cheek. “First, throw off your iron cross. I detest it’s touch.”

Anthony had not realized he was still wearing it. He would have assumed it to be taken off with the rest of his clothing. But no, the weight of it was still secure around his neck. It was then that he saw a burn mark in the shape of an intersection on the otherwise flawless skin. The creature must have touched the cross while saving him.

It should have inspired trust. Instead it made Anthony feel as though he were throwing away the last weapon he had. He gave it one last touch, the cold, unforgiving iron presenting little comfort as he laid it away from himself.

The moss blanket was yanked down and Anthony found himself exposed.

“W-wait!” He gasped as the creature took hold of his hips gracefully, it’s fingers trailing down the sides. “I don’t…I don’t understand.”

Those absinthe green eyes looked into his. “Do you not? I knew your kind take vows of chastity, but I did not think you a virgin.” It seemed to find this thought amusing. “Do not be frightened. I will be gentle with you.”

“Gentle!” Anthony clutched for the blanket to find it missing. He looked for his cross but it had disappeared under the tall weeds. “I…this…in God’s name!”

“This is what is required for me to remain. My name on your lips and my seed in your belly will bind me to this world. But to foster my power, I will still need those loving gifts you offer. Blood and seed husband the oldest of magic’s, priest.” The entity pressed a hand to Anthony’s chest and pushed him to the ground, gliding his palm up to cup the man’s cheek. He ran a thumb over the plump lower lip and groaned, excited by the look of confusion and vulnerability on the mortal. “Each month, you will come to me under the oak glen where we first met. You will lie down and offer these gifts willingly. This will allow me the power I need to give you service.”

His mind reeled with this information. Even beyond the hedonism and lewdness, what the creature spoke of was pagan at best! Yet his body held no such moral quandaries. It had been years since his last touch with a woman, months still since he’d been able to set aside guilt and take his need in hand. The creatures cock rose up proud and stronger than his by far and it seemed to inspire Anthony’s to follow.

Warm lips caressed along his neck and the horns glided along his cheek. He could see the whorled patterns in them, as if some ancient artist had desired to inscribe his work on the ivory. Anthony breathed deep and smelled the scent of maple and honey and wildness. The aroma was like a drug and he felt his muscles relax. A fog shrouded his mind of good sense and he lay back, arching as the tongue began to work on his throat.

He lay there, neck bared like a wolf to its pack leader. The creature bent low and devoured him, hands working down his body with expert ease. The fingers plucked easily at his nipple, teasing them until little whimpers could be heard breaking in the human’s throat. A hum sounded by Anthony’s ear and he fluttered his eyes open to see a soft smile play on those lips.

“Ah how I have longed for this moment.” The strange thing whispered, almost nuzzling Anthony’s chest. “I have wanted you since the first summer we met and thought of little else.” He promised and reached his hand down to stroke Anthony’s cock. His hands were warm and firm and the priest could not help but arch high into such a touch. “Have you longed for me, my mortal friend? No. Don’t speak. Let me enjoy the thought that you might.”

Anthony barely had enough with left in him to remember what he needed. “Your name!” he pleaded as the creature slid a finger to his untried entry, wriggling it open. His mind went blank as it took possession and a wet slickness began to ease its passage.

“I have many.” His illicit companion teased. “I have been called many things throughout the ages. Names that have been lost to time and the Christ-god who hangs on his cross as though he were Odin to hang from Yggdrasil.” He spoke this as though it held little meaning to him, and yet there was a bitter edge to the tongue. “Names, names and all of them transient.” He mused as Anthony wailed and a second finger opened him. The ache was prevalent, but there was budding hunger behind it. The creature had some manner of skill in this, for it never once passed beyond the realm of manageable ache. It took its two middle fingers and sighed delightedly as it probed the human open, shushing his fears with kisses along his stomach.

The mortal found his mind again as his fingers began to tug at grass roots. His cock dripped sadly, longing for release. He shook his head and began to pant in hot, short breaths. “Promised.” Anthony managed as a third finger pulled into the tight ring of muscle. “You promised me you’re name!”

A little frown creased the creature’s face. He removed his fingers and gripped hold of his prize’s hips, lining himself up. With a firm, angling push he breeched the mortal and Anthony tossed under him. He gave another thrust and watched his human come undone, the warm coco brown eyes pleading for something he had not yet experienced. It softened his resolve and the horns grazed Anthony’s brow as the entity leaned in close. “Loki.” He whispered in a strange accent.

“Loki.” Anthony breathed out like music as white hot stars flashed in his eyes. “Loki.”


	2. Part Two

**Part Two**

**IV**

The monastery was not the most welcoming of places to any, including those who lived there. It was perhaps only somewhat larger than a farm house, the main part of the building occupied by the church itself while the dormitories for the order is located in a later addition. The walls surrounding the area allowed for a small vegetable garden as well as a pen to keep goats and chickens for the brothers to tend to. There is a small grindstone to turn grain into flour and a clay oven that can hold perhaps four loafs of bread at a time. The monastery does not function for the sake of the comfort of its order, but rather out of a need to occupy the time between prayer, sleep and ritual.

Loki had refused to follow Anthony into the walls. In fact, he would come no further than the edge of the forest.

“I would not be welcomed therein. I can hide myself from the sight of your brotherhood, but the very stone repels me.” He admitted sheepishly as dawn began to break in lazy colors across the horizon.

“How will I know to find you again?” Tony asked, turning to look at him, still not entirely trusting.

“You pay very little attention in the midst of pleasure. Is this a compliment?” Loki smirked and shrugged. “I will always be found under the oaks during the full moon. If you need me any other time, merely call for me. Though I will insist you do not speak my name while you abide in that place.” He gestured airily to the compound.

“Can you not set foot there at all?” Anthony asked, giving a hard look to the bound creature.

Loki frowned and hesitated. “I…may. If I must.” And he left off with that.

“I will avoid it, if I can.” The monk promised and waved him away. “Go. Be about your business. Fins the man who is murdering these women.” And to himself he pleaded that he had done the right thing. He did not hear Loki leave, but when he turned there was no sign of him, as if it all might well have been a dream.

He had snuck from the gates before, and it took very little to slip into the dormitory and back into his bed. The moment of rest did not last long, for almost as soon as his head hit the pillow, the sound of morning vespers rung and the brothers began to stir. Exhausted as he was, there was nothing for it, duty called, and he was almost grateful. He hoped the tasks of the day would distract him from dwelling on what he had done the night before.

Anthony managed throughout the day, devoting himself to his normal chores. His nerves were on edge, hidden behind the quiet nature of the order. He had lain with a demon. He had opened his thighs and his body had been gripped and opened and he had called out into the night air. He had spoken it’s name and bound it’s will to his own.

Did that make him a witch?

The thought landed on him suddenly and Anthony paused in his weeding. He did not _feel_ like a witch. He was not suddenly burdened with the sense of mischief or transgression against the lord. He still held his cross and recited the scriptures as though nothing were amiss. As he milked the goats, the stream came forth and there was no sour scent or gloppy messy in the bucket. He didn’t feel unholy.

Well, no more so than usual.

Instead he felt only a little ashamed of himself. He had set out with the knowledge that this bargain would cost him and it had. He had been willing to give up whatever he must to stop the madman slaughtering the women of the coast. True, he had no expect this to be the price. But it would do little good to grouse about it now. The bargain was made, and it gave him more agency in this fight.

He now knew the demons name. He dared not speak it aloud, be he rolled the word silently on his tongue. Loki. Lo Kei. It was a strange word, almost as though it weren’t really a name at all, but a word describing something far more puissant. Even as he breathed it, he felt a shiver go through his spine and a raven cawed in the ash tree on the grounds.

He had said that name so much last night, almost as if it were a chant to accompany the thrusting inside his body. And the creature had responded enthusiastically, as if pounding the connection into him. Anthony had found the coupling all too brief and lost himself on his stomach. Loki had looked hungrily as the seed and lapped it up, savoring every drop.

The final lunge and groaning compulsion had burst from Loki into Anthony and left the mortal feeling warm and content deep in his stomach.

He shook himself into awareness and realized he had stopped weeding. Anthony flushed with shame and arousal and set himself furiously back to his task. He should not have let his mind wander like that. Whatever it took to get here, this was a business transaction. He had fulfilled his part in this, and now Loki was off to do his. Whatever it took, it didn’t matter. Surely it was worth this small betrayal of his vows to ensure the safety of others.

Wasn’t it?

Before he had taken his vows, the Abbot had reminded him of the purpose of the order. Like the angels of the Silver City, there place was to contemplate the word of God. They were not priests to hear confessions or take up alms for the poor. They left the confines of the grounds but once a year for the bonfire ritual, where they intoned the prayers of the village and sent them to God. The life of asceticism was meant to show the lord how sincere they were in their devotions. To join with them was to forsake all worldly ties and to give oneself forever to the sense of self sacrifice for other’s sake.

Was that not just what Anthony was doing?

On some level, he knew he was merely consoling himself. There would be a reckoning for this, sooner or later. If not in this life than in the next. But as he had so many years ago, Anthony could not live with the knowledge that someone suffered and he was capable of doing something about it only to sit on his hands.

If damnation was the price, he would bare it as proudly as he could.

If coupling with a demon that made him see stars was the cost, well…he might not be so proud, but he would bare it none the less.

**V**

_He did not travel to the cabin._

_He had known somehow that he would not. Nor had he set out with any clear plan of what he would do. He only knew that he could not stand another night of knowing this poor child would suffer._

_Anthony knew the village was a day’s walk from the monastery. He went as far as he had to in the direction of the cabin in case any of the brothers or the Abbot himself were watching. The moment he could no longer see the wrought iron cross of the spire, he turned towards the coast._

_All his life, Anthony had loved living along the coast. The smell of sea air, the soft lapping of the waves at the shoreline. He could lose himself for hours to hear the seagulls cry. His family had been wealthy, growing fat off the shipping industry his father had built. The largest villa in the city was his to enjoy and oh he had. The Anthony of his twenties had paid little mind to the documents and ledgers, leaving those to the men who had kept his father’s books since her was a child._

_He had begun to think of his current situation as God’s just punishment for a life spent in hedonistic gluttony._

_Or perhaps for not paying closer attention to his cargo manifest._

_No one requested credentials as he came to the gate of the city. The order was well known here and though the brothers only came once a year as a group, it was not uncommon for one to enter for supplies or to speak to the priests in the city cathedral. He would be left to his own business, which suited Anthony just fine._

_He did not have coin, one of his order would not. But he would be expected to sign in to the local magistrate’s so that the city would receive tax deductions for having shown him hospitality. He found them with little trouble and signed the books under a false name. Brother Philip d’ Neri. It was sort of funny, but he was counting on no one knowing that particular namesake._

_They showed him to a room. It was small, and sparse, but fitting and he thanked them, giving the usual blessings and humble assurances, as well as the added request that he not be disturbed for anything. They had seemed confused, but acquiesced. He had two months in which to execute his sense of justice before the brother’s would expect his return. Interruptions would not be tolerated._

_He could only hope it would be enough time._

_He joined the magistrate company for dinner, keeping to his vows to eat simply and taking nothing but rye bread, a bit of ale and some charred fish with salt. He said the prayers and when the company went to patrol the streets, Anthony shut his door, doused the light, and stole off into the night._

_The thrum of the city called to him. He had adored the night life. The skullduggery that one could get into with a little bit of good natured scandal and enough beer in your gut. It was still early, the streets still teeming. Anthony crossed through the ally ways and bridges, returning to the spot where he had received the note._

_In all likelihood, the girl and her parents had not been far from home during the festival. He passed a wash line with clothing drying in the midsummer breeze and stole a pair of trousers, a smock and a vest. He wished he had some manner of trade to leave, but instead had to be content by sending a prayer to the lady who had laundered the clothing in hopes that she would be blessed for her generous donation to the church. He stuffed his monks robes in a satchel and continued on his way, hiding the iron cross under his clothing._

_He needed to be unmemorable. And a monk asking strange questions would stick in the mind._

_He found the street and looked around, trying to get his bearings. It had taken longer than he thought and the streets were starts to look empty. People had shuffled off to their respectable homes or, far more likely in this area of the city, a tavern and bawdy house. If he wanted information, Anthony realized he would have to follow suite._

_He looked for people who lived in the area, avoiding travelers and began asking about a girl with beautiful amber eyes. Most people suggested him to the upstairs and in particular a woman everyone referred to as Aveline. As the first night drew to a close and him no closer to any source of information, Anthony began to doubt his plan._

_It had been a doxie, in the end, who yielded light as she overheard him talking to a portly man who was offering a cheap price for her. “Amber eyes?” she said, turning to Anthony as though she’d just realized something. “Big sad eyes like a doe being chased?”_

_Anthony turned to her. “Yes! Yes that would be her.”_

_The prostitute frowned. “I saw her not two weeks ago. Poor dear. She came to the back door, beggin to be taken in as an apprentice.” She waved her hands quickly. “Not that we would! She couldn’t have been more than ten, maybe eleven. We don’t take them in that young! We’re a respectable house! I told her to come back in five years’ time if she still had the stomach for it and I’d apprentice her myself.”_

_Anthony felt his stomach grow queasy. The child had tried to become a prostitute? Why? What on earth could possess her to do such a thing? “Did she say why she was in need of the position? Did she seem poor? Underfed?” he asked, probing for more._

_“Not to my eyes she did not. Though there was something about her. She kept looking around, as though she were afraid of being followed. She seemed desperate. All the other houses had refused her. Any house worth its salt won’t take a girl till she’s sixteen at least. And I didn’t have the heart to tell her to try the ones that will.” The woman shook her head, tossing her blond ringlets about. “Poor thing. Reminds me of my own daughter I gave up years ago. I’d have taken her if I could. But too young. Far too young.”_

_Anthony continued to ask for information, but that was all the lady knew. It occurred to him he might be on the wrong track. If the girl was desperate to get away from her father, she probably wouldn’t choose a brothel close to her home where she might be spotted. He might not even be able to find her._

_And even if he did, what exactly did he plan to do next?_

**VI**

“You’re desires are proving difficult to fulfill my Anthony.”

He frowned, his nostrils flaring. “I have given you your bargain and you tell me you cannot complete your end? Is this part of your trickery, demon?”

Loki’s eyes flashed and he looked affronted. “I did not say I could not, only that it is proving difficult. Your madman is slippery. I had thought to catch him in a fortnight. But he leaves no trail to sniff out. Your mortal guardians interfere at every turn. It is as if he wants his meal to leave as big a mess as possible to show what a glutton he is.”

Anthony cringed. “Meal? You mean to say he is dining on the unfortunate women?”

“On parts of them at least. He seems to have an appetite for hearts.” Loki sniffed. “But he leaves the rest strewn about in such a calamity. I have seen such a voracious feaster before, but none that now exist in this world.”

“In this world? You mean to say there are such creature in your realm?” Anthony inquired and crossed his arms. “Loki tell me true. Did you bring such a creature with you? Is this something you may have released?”

There was a dark hiss. “You do me disservice, Anthony. You offer such mistrust and yet you beg boons of me.”

“I beg nothing. You are bound. You are a demon and should not be trusted. Cannot be trusted.” He shook his head and willed himself not to see the hurt in those eyes. He willed himself to remember how such creatures would use any means they could to sway you into their bidding.

“Aye, I am bound. For seven years I will serve you well.” Loki said in a deadened voice. “But you would do well, my suspicious priest, to remember who you will serve then. Best not to arouse my ire rather than my cock.”

Anthony blinked and felt a blush creep over his body. It had been a month since their last meeting. Of course they would have to copulate again. An interested stiffening began to throb between his thighs and Anthony closed his eyes, willing himself to be mindful. “All well and good. But prove to me that you have not been idle. Show me what you have done to track this felon.”

Loki pouted, which only served to make his features more charming. “I traveled to your city and began to seek out rumors. The flow heavily in such crowded places and I do have a keen ear for them. This wicked man is becoming notorious enough to have earned himself a name. They are calling him Butcher in the streets.” He swayed down onto the branch, lounging like a cat. “He leaves behind only the remains of the women, nothing of his own, which I find most highly suspect.”

“How so? What is there in this world to confound a demon?”

“Much, though I would say there is not much which would confound me.” He scratched his jaw in thought. “Humans, if I may be forgiven, carry a scent which any of my kind can sniff out. Each scent is particular to its owner and can be followed like a fox to the den. But when I find the place where our fox as had its meal, I can smell nothing but the blood of the slaughtered woman.” Loki glowered as though frustrated.

“Is it possible he knows he is being sought out?”

Loki lifted his head and pressed a hand to his chest. “There is nothing and no one in any world who can suss me out if I do not wish them to know I am there. I am not some fumble-footed human to crash about noisily. I am silent, unseen and unknown as a shadow unless I chose otherwise.”

Anthony could not help but roll his eyes. What a proud imp he’d managed to enthrall! “Then is it possible you are mistaken? Perhaps your senses are not as acute as you think.”

The creature seemed to stiffen, then relaxed. “It is…possible my senses are overtaxed. I am not used to these city smells. There is food cooking in every corner. The smell of smoke stacks and people all through the place. And offal! Your kind dump their offal right in the street!” Loki gave a gagging noise and his long, pink tongue protruded from his lips. “At least beasts bury theirs!”

Anthony could not help a little smirk. It was funny to see such a feared and reviled denizen of the underworld look so disgusted by human nature. “Aye. Then we must keep searching.”

“Shall I sniff out the people one by one? That should make seven years pass by rather quickly.”

The monk sniffed glared the his companion. That was one option, but it made him feel raw to think of people sitting there unawares while a demon prowled their midst. Who knew what havoc he could cause out of sheer pique.

Anthony pondered. That brought another concern to mind. “I should have said something to you before, but I had not the presence of mind to do so.”

Loki purred contentedly, leaning forward to show off his long, beautiful body. “You mean to say you were too exhausted through sex.” He laughed. “My pretty mortal, how you do blush!”

“You are forbidden from harming anyone in the town.” He continued forcefully, not letting himself responded to the comment. Loki sat there, listening and swinging one leg down playfully. “If you find evidence of who this Butcher may be, you will find a way to contact me.”

“You? Why not take such evidence to the guardsmen who patrol? Is that not their station to apprehend such villains?”

The man paused, considering. Yes, technically he should ask Loki to direct the magistrates to the man. But there was something else at play here. For nearly four months there had been no evidence as to who the murderer might be. That spoke to two things. Either the man was very clever at hiding himself, or someone was covering his tracks for him. Anthony loathed to think on the second possibility. It would not be the first time some nobleman’s son had gotten away with murder and worse because their father had the power to cover their name.

“Perhaps, but for now, come to me first. I will decide if the evidence warrants involving enforcement.” Anthony decided. If this turned out to be another clever person, he could just have Loki drop the evidence in their laps. If indeed it turned out to be something more sinister, well, Loki could handle that too. But in an altogether less tidy way.

After all, he’d done it before.

“As you will.” Loki agreed, stretching out and sliding down to the forest floor. “Now, come to me, my lovely priest. Our first time together was too quick, too pressing. I would have the full measure of you this night.” He wriggled enticingly, drawing his hands across the grass. It grew deep and lush, and Anthony could see the soft moss begin to grow across the ground. Loki crawled through it carefully, tilting his head in the most sweet and comely fashion.

Anthony felt a stirring in his body. Yes, the first time had been brief and sudden and reminded him of the couplings in his youth. All eager passion and desperation to spend yourself before you would burst. And yet he had tossed and turned more than once in the last month, wondering at how the moment’s embrace had left him feeling tangled and hungry.

“Aye.” He agreed solemnly, trying to deny his curiosity. “To it then.”


	3. Part Three

**VII**

Loki looked every bit the predator as he took hold of Anthony’s shoulders, his fingers tugging down the robe. He flinched at the sight of the iron cross, jerking his hands away. “Do you detest me so that you wear this?” he lifted the leather string holding it and caressed Tony’s neckline. “What cause have I given you to distrust me so?”

Anthony closed his eyes, not wanting to answer. Lips pressed to his own and he shivered to feel the warm caress on a tongue slip into his mouth. Loki’s hands took tender possession of his hair, pulling him back to expose his neck. His teeth scratched along the clavicle, as if he might break at any moment and bite. The creature made it clear, this would be no brief tumble. He meant to make Anthony writhe.

And it was sickening how he did that with such ease. His hands made no secret of themselves. Oh no! Loki’s fingers covered the muscles of his back and neck as if for sport, seeking out his reactions. Anthony had been taken by surprise the first time but now he was determined not to be so accommodating. He steeled his reserve, trying to ignore the smooth bumps of the horns along his cheeks. He closed his eyes and began to recite prayers rather than acknowledge the sweet touch of tender fingers along his spine.

_Behold me, O my God, at Your feet! I do not deserve mercy, but O my Redeemer, the blood with You have shed for me encourages me and obliges me to hope for it._

Loki purred sweetly, laying Anthony down on their spun bower of greenery. He lifted the man’s thighs and watched keenly as his tongue swirled patterns between them, eliciting little bumps to appear on his mortal flesh.

Anthony arched hotly into the press and shook his head, pushing down the roil in his pelvis with all his might. _How often I have offended You, repented, and yet have I again fallen into the same sin. O my God, I wish to amend, and in order to be faithful to You, I will place all my confidence in You. I will, whenever I am tempted, instantly have recourse to You._

Teeth bit his inner thigh and Anthony’s eye flew open, he strained and trembled meekly as Loki chuckled to hear his discomfort.

“You resist me. Why?” Loki entreated. “Am I not a kind and tender lover? Do I not endeavor to make the experience worth repetition?” He pouted again, so innocent an expression on so devious a face. It was intolerable.

Anthony flushed bright and grimaced. “I do this from necessity. I do this to contain you. I will not be swayed by your attempts to…to…mercy!” He gasped out, his head falling back to the grass as those deft fingers did terrible things to his sac. The stars became glowing specks of light and he could see the rainbow ring around the moon as clear as daylight. The grip became tight and his cock twitched with eager displays of gratitude.

Loki rubbed himself against Anthony’s body, exciting his own need by this near rutting display of dominance. “Such things I could show you Anthony. Such wicked delights worthy of our trysts. If you would but place yourself in my hands willingly.” He promised, his breath airy and joyful. He took his own cock eagerly in his fist and stroked it to fullness, ensuring the monk could not help but see it’s risen stature.

_Until now, I have trusted in my own promises and resolutions and have neglected to recommend myself to You in my temptations. This has been the cause of my repeated failures. From this day forward, be You, O Lord, my strength…!_

Loki pushed himself back and his long, wet tongue smoothed the thick brush of hair along Anthony’s pelvis.

_O Lord, my strength!_

The bridge of his nose traced the thick vein along the underside of the mortal’s shaft with lush deviance.

_O Lord, my strength!_

Anthony lost thought as the mouth devoured him swiftly, taking the full length of him down. His fists tore at the grass, digging up mud under his nails. He shook his head side to side, helpless in the sensation. How long had it been since someone had taken the care of him into their lips? How long since he’d felt that intimacy? The wet succor of this was too much to bare and he could not control how he reached for the touch of those silken black locks. It was only the scrape of his knuckles against horn that called him back to reality.

Anthony swallowed his moans and hunger and when he came, it was with the release of one who could feel his soul descend back to its physical home. He heard the rich, savory gulp echo in the glade and saw Loki rise, his eyes fluttering open with clear gusto.

“Such a taste. Anthony I would pour you into a goblet and make a wine of your seed.” He promised and nuzzled the seeping cock, flicking his tongue out to catch the last few drops.

Loki opened him then, catching his hole upon his fingers and sliding them in and out, slicking them well with out. And all this he took great pleasure in making the human watch, ceasing his tender opening only when he had drawn the tightness open and Anthony’s cock had begun to sluggishly come to life from it’s rest on his stomach.

“Such vigor and vim!” Loki teased and began to mutter a filthy limerick. “A new farmer's helper named Kull, accidentally was milking a bull. The farmer said, "Boy yer dumb, you’ve gone milked the wrong one!" Said the boy, "But me whole bucket's full!”

Anthony covered his mouth with one hand as something inside of him flared to life. He had heard the jest more than once as a young man and it had always made him laugh. But now, to be compared with a steer by this demon as he was milked himself, the jest fell too close to home. “Wicked! Cruel creature you are! Damn you to hell you mean thing!” he roared out and Loki halted in his tenderness.

He blinked several times and then frowned. “How rude. You would call me cruel when I do naught but tease.” He yanked the man’s legs apart and lifted him by the hips, tilting his knees towards his stomach. “Fine then. If you will insist on being so callous…” and with that he took Anthony deep in one hungry thrust.

He felt as though a veil had been draped over his body and clung tight to his skin. Loki pushed hard and possessive, owning him with every dedicated plunge. It wrung him out and he could only look up through honey brown iris into those clever features. “God! Oh God forgive me!” he pleaded and tangled his fingers in the grass as the undeniable pleasure coursed through his veins.

Women he had made a career of bedding in his youth with no more preference than what he ate that morning for breakfast. He had sampled busty blonds and shy eyed brunettes with equal fervor. He had flirted his way into the beds of wild redheads and raven haired ladies with smiles like honey.

Never could he ever remember a pleasure so intense as this. And when Loki bore down and every inch of it entered him, Anthony near wept for joy of it.

“God may not forgive you for this, but I will.” The horned lover vowed and gasped out happily. “Cum strong for me once more. I will lap it from your belly and leave my seed to fill you.” Loki moaned, whispering temptations and promises far more dirty into those ears. He held for so long, taking what he was owed until at long last the creature lunged forward and his face strained, his teeth bared in the moonlight as he came.

It was an action so feral that Anthony could not help himself and was forced to lose control a second time. True to his word, as if he was making it a point of pride, Loki pulled from the mortal and bent low, lapping up the white stripe from his flesh. “Mustn’t send you back to your brother’s dirty now.” He chuckled and stroked the sweating brow of his companion. He lay next to Anthony in the green, petting him with affectionate touches. “Rest easy mortal. I have an idea on how to ensnare our cutting friend. With but a little luck, we shall have him by next full moon.”

**VIII**

_Anthony had begun to lose hope._

_Weeks of searching and hiding his true intention from the magistrates and little if anything to show for it. He had searched high and low, even sneaking from the place mid-day to question merchant stalls. But there were many brown eyed girls in the city, and one could hardly be expected to remember even a particularly sad one._

_And then a lucky break! He had spotted her in the crowd, that face so familiar and sorrowful, her hair back in a plaited braid. She was carrying a little wicker basket and looking around with a frightful expression._

_He cut through the crowd in his stolen garb, doing his utmost to keep within the line of sight. She was a quick thing, moving easily as though she knew where she was headed. It was almost as though she was aware that she may be followed. Anthony had to make himself scarce as she turned and looked where he had been. He almost lost sight of her, but caught up quickly._

_He still did not know what he might do when confronted with her home._

_All agency not withstanding, Anthony had given up many things as a part of his vows when joining the brotherhood. Acts of violence were strictly forbidden. He wished to stop the pain for this child. He wished to free her from the unwelcome touches of her father. And yet he knew he would be hard pressed to cause another harm!_

_He could not simply walk in and call out the father for his crimes against her. He had not proof. No evidence save the scrawled words on a paper long since burnt to ash. And even then, for his word to hold sway over that of the father’s he would be forced to reveal himself as a priest._

_He had no means of freeing the poor child. He could go to her, tell her to run and escape her tormentors. But then what could he offer her? Anthony kept no coin or food to aid in her escape. He could not take her with him to the monastery. The best he could do was tell her to go to the church and request sanctuary, and even then, should her father come looking she would likely be turned over to him._

_Anthony had disobeyed his Abbot, his vows and disrespected his cloth to save a girl. But it was fast becoming apparent that his thoughts of heroism were greatly ill conceived._

_And yet he could not make himself divert._

_He followed her through the afternoon as they came to a small, neat little villa with cracking lime washed walls and a garden that needed a bit of weeding. It was then that Anthony saw the girl do a most unusual thing. She crouched by the garden and took a flower pot, easily removing the dry and brittle flowers and setting them aside. From her basket she took a few items and stuffed them into the pot, covering it once more so that all appeared undisturbed._

_A name was called from the window and the girl jumped with a fright. She stood, dusting herself clean and straightening her dress. With one last look about, she opened the door and disappeared into the house._

_Anthony could do nothing but wait. He kept himself scarce as he could, not wishing to call undo attention by skulking about. It was not for several hours but towards the end of the night the child appeared once more to douse the street lamp. She peeked about and even through the dark, Anthony saw her fish into the pot and retrieve her items, looking above as the full moon began to rise._

_It was all most suspicious, and Anthony found himself curious as to what she was up to. But a small while later he saw a candle light illuminate an upper window. Taking a chance, he snuck to the trellis of ivy climbing the side wall and scaled it with ease. He paused but a moment, aware that he may well be peeking on something not meant to be seen, least not an eleven year old child! He steeled himself and looked in the window._

_Only to be forced to duck and hide as the girl came right towards him. Anthony very nearly lost his footing as he avoided her opening the window and stealing from the room as neatly as he had stolen up to it. This time she moved not with fear, but purpose. She paid no mind to her surroundings but walked with quick pace through the city, headed for the wall._

_Anthony was hard pressed to keep up with her this time. She ducked and swerved, clutching her bundle. It was clear she meant to leave the city. Perhaps she was taking some things with her. Brave child, but he would council against such actions. She would not be safe on the road. Besides, the city guard would never permit her to leave without a passport of some sort._

_It was then he saw her sneak to the wall and dig at the brick and mortar easily. It was an older part, obvious crumbled and perhaps used for years as a way to sneak in and out of the city by unwelcomes. How she had come across this patch was beyond him, but something rankled his nerves. She snuck through without looking back and began to pile the bricks back after her._

_Anthony did not wish to lose sight of her. He gave the girl a moment to make distance and then quickly dug through as well, not bothering to pile the bricks after himself as he saw her braids disappear over the hill. Were it not for the light of the moon he would have lost sight entirely. Deep into the forest she wandered, seemingly without fear of wolves or other more likely predators._

_Deep Anthony followed, wondering all the while what such strange actions were leading to. As the moon rose to its heights, she began to slow, coming to a small clearing in a glen of oak and ash trees. As he gained on her, the sight took his breath away and he crossed himself protectively._

_The girl had been here before, and she had been preparing for some time._

**IX**

There was much one gave up in the service of God. The order he had chosen was one of the most restrictive monasteries known. The brothers therein took vows of poverty, obedience, stability, chastity and the like as was expected by every devout follower of the faith. On top of these were added the most solemn vows regarding everything from dietary needs to when they were permitted to leave their small enclosure. How they walked and dressed and how their voice was never to rise above a certain level less they seem too proud in their speech.

In all truth, Anthony had always found the lifestyle to be stifling. He had mocked it more than once in his younger years. Perhaps he might have been gentler if he had known he would one day plead with the Abbot to take him in. But then hindsight if forever and always perfect.

There were no friends here. He saw his brothers daily and they would nod as greeting. There was no spry or witty conversation. All eyes turned to text and manuscript to devote oneself to full understanding of Gods holy word. Even meal times were somber affairs so that one might full appreciate the bounty before them.

Anthony thought of the roasted onions, their buttery cooked flavor on his tongue and licked his lips. Had it merely been that he had not had such flavor in so long? The meals, which had never been sumptuous or flavorful but were at least filling, now seemed little better than chewing dirt. Even the water gathered from the spring well seemed distasteful when he drank it since he had tasted the demons tea.

He had promised himself not to overthink on their meetings in the house of the lord. It was blasphemous enough to cavort with Loki’s kind. But it seemed disrespectful a dozen times over to do so here. As before, he busied himself in his work. Yet the tasks he had done now for ten years were so committed to memory that he could do them without consideration. And so his mind began to wander. And where to it wandered was effortless.

For five years he had staved off the hunger of the creature, binding it to his service every full moon by gifting it with his blood or seed in a little silver goblet. The concord would only last for the nights when the full moon hung in the sky and then Anthony could not say where the demon would disappear to. He swore he was not on this world, and Anthony had little reason to doubt him.

Only now he found himself concerned. Their ritual had changed and now the creature was bound both to his will and this world. What did he do on the long days and nights between their meetings? Surely Loki could not go into the towns as he was, all horned and otherworldly. What guarantee did he have that his bound being was acting on his behalf?

Demons could not lie to men of the church, all the tales and scriptures said thus. And, once bound, they obeyed unless their holder was foolish and gave them a way around the agreement. Anthony had spent much time going through every interaction and instruction to ensure Loki was thoroughly under his thrall. Even considering what they had done entangled in that oaken bower had to be inspected.

He found himself inspecting it most often at night in the dormitories.

Horns strong and proud as a stag in the woods. Hair like the silks he had once dressed himself with. Eyes, oh such wicked, poisonous eyes keenly aware of his movements! Anthony had been wrung out under such attention. He had willed himself, pleaded with himself not to take such enjoyment in it. But in the end Loki’s talents had proven greater than his resolve.

He had succumb, lewd and prostrate, to the demons affections.

And now he could not wipe them from his mind.

Anthony Stark had bedded women aplenty. Anthony Stark had experienced lush pleasures in the bedrooms of women and whores, young heiresses and lonely wives. Anthony Stark thought he knew every manner of pleasure in this world.

Perhaps he had.

But Loki was not of this world.

Anthony began to busy himself. He was permitting too much leniency. Near on two months with no results. Surely it could not be so difficult for a being of such power to find one human murderer.

The reflection of the moon already waited patiently on the horizon. In a few hours they would be meeting again and Anthony had questions to put to his demon.

Sneaking from the bed had always proved easy in the past. The brothers, so bound by their oaths, obeyed loyally. Anthony could hear the small turnings of sheets and settling of the room for near an hour. He waited till he could hear the last sigh of men falling to slumber and the shifting of pillows were quit. He moved slightly, watching the sleeping forms and sounds of snoring.

Anthony slid from the bed, lighting a candle and shuffling as though he were off to the privy. With luck, anyone who might still be fading into slumber would think him soon to return and drift off easily. Around the corners he moved cautiously until he came to the grounds, taking a deep breath. They were moving swiftly to the end of summer and the air had begun to cool.

Anthony grimaced. He dreaded these meetings come winter.


	4. Part Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to mia-ao3 on tumblr!

**X**

_Click click click click._

There went the heels of the village doxies.

_Swish swish rustle._

Went the skirts of the ladies with prices on their virtues

Work was always available, but it wasn’t until the dusky hours that they plied their trade on the street. Though with the Butcher lurking, it was only the hardier women who dared walk past the light of the brothels.

And one foolish new girl with green and grey skirts and long dark hair.

“Watch yourself child.” Said the wiser women who hide wrinkles behind powder. “The Butcher is about. He’d sure come after a pretty thing like you.”

She laughed and tossed her black curls. “So long as I cum first, I find little issue.”

They shook their heads and ducked back to the safety of the doorways. The new girl walked lightly, her delicate feet leaving not a print on the dusty ground. Men passed and offered coin, to which she arched a fine brow and laughed, withering their bravado with a sharp tongued comment in a lilting voice.

She sighed and set her mind to the task. As she trolled the streets, feeling more predator than prey, she hummed under her breath. “My lovers a butcher a butcher a butcher my lovers a butcher is he.” She chuckled, teasing in and out of shadows as though born from them. “All day, he pounds meat, he pounds meat, he pounds meat, and at night he comes home and pounds...” Her laughter was low and throaty as she loosened her corset and dipped low her chemise. “Ya gotta drink a little bit, flirt a little bit, follow the band, follow the band follow the band…”

The song served to lighten the mood. She disliked the city. At first it had been charming. The bright colors and busyness had attracted her to every sight and sound. But then it had quickly become overwhelming. The buildings towered overhead like mountains threatening to fall. The smells overpowered her senses, offal of human and animal alike. The smell of sweat and bodies and food cooking or rotted. All of it crowded out the clean air she had grown up with. It was distinctly unpleasant and she longed to be shod of the place.

A sound caught her ear and she turned just a bit, the a shadow parting to move with her. She smiled, showing sharp canines. “My lovers a butcher a butcher…”

And the girl froze. The smell hit her, brutal and familiar. The smell of blood old and new, the smell of wet fur and most potent sulfur. She clasped her hands to her mouth and nose to cover that wretched scent. “My lover you do stink.” She let out.

What met her ears was a low and growling laughter. “Lover? Nay there is no love in me sweet thing. But come, and I will show you red flowers that spill from your own belly!”

What hit her was less like a hand and more like a cudgel. She flew forward into a wall, the sickening crack of her head hitting brick sounded through the ally. Thick blue blood bubbled from the gash and her attacker halted.

“Well now…”his voice, it’s voice, was dry like cracked leaves. “Long has it been since last I saw blood like this. Longer still since I tasted it.” A tongue slid down across the gash and the thing trilled with excitement.

The woman flashed her teeth and took claws of her own to him, slashing it across the face. A howl like the hounds of the depths rose and she took flight, a hot, panting breath on her heels as red eyes of fire chased her down. A hiss of frustration tore from her throat and she turned, her feet pulling from the earth and up to the rafters of the tall, tall town buildings. She blew the foul thing a kiss as the clouds uncloaked moonlight and she saw a face.

A haggard, torn, and frantic looking face, all too human. She looked through poison green eyes, counting every fraction of it to memory as again the shadows passed and the foul thing ran for her. But she was fleeter by far than this lumbering jackanapes!

Hot breath landed on the back of her neck and claws raked at her back. She screeched and hooves grew from her toes. She leapt, thinking to leave her pursuer far behind. But it was for not. Rough and harsh hands left bruising around her ankles and slammed her to the ground. The poor thing gasped, breathless and tried quite desperately to see another avenue.

And yet the creature was upon her. The stench of its breath overwhelming her senses a she covered her nose against it. “Putrid villain!” she yelled at her, bringing her claws round to his face. “Off me! I am no trophy for you!”

The thing barked and held down it’s captured prey by the throat, squeezing till choking sounds filled the air. “I shall open your chest and pull your pumping heart from it.” It hissed, glaring at the helpless victim through a bleeding gash where an eye should be. “And you shall live and watch as I do devour it.”

Fear then took such hold of here that she could see no other alternative. From her dress folds she took hold of an iron cross, tears flowing freely at the burn of it on her flesh as she pressed it into the creatures face. Oh such a howl of hate and anguish erupted! She scamper out from under him and ran for the wall of the city, never daring to look back until the bower of leaves and tree branches closed over her.

The change came slow, but soon enough it was Loki was sat there, much safer in these woods than the allies of the town. He clasped his injured hand to himself, looking down at the garish imprint of a cross on his palm.

The moon was near the end of it’s travels. On the horizon, Loki could see a pale blue light. There was no time to return to the oak trees. But there was much to think on and discuss, and it could not wait a month to be heard.

Glumly, Loki stood, heading straight for the monastery.

**XI**

Anthony found himself quite distraught as he sat in the garden, tending to the weeds. Loki had not appeared to visit him in the last three nights of the full moon. He had risked everything by sneaking out once more, looking and calling to the trees for his companion but to no avail. By dawn he had trudged back far too late for vespers, sneaking in with the hope no one had noted his absence.

It was as he pulled the dandelions from the rosemary that a pair of dull yellow eyes stared up at him from the dirt.

A toad looked up at him suspiciously, tilting it’s fat, slick head from side to side, watching the monk before opening its wide mouth and croaking “An-to-ne.”

Anthony froze, eyes widening as he stared down at the slimy creature.

“An-to-ne.” It croaked again as though it were natural.

The man looked about to see if any of the brother were close enough to overhear. “L-Loki?” he asked with curiosity.

“An-to-ne.” it said again and jumped in the direction of the iron gate.

Anthony peeked around the hedge, looking towards the woods in the distance. He could see a figure, taller than him by far, made taller still by the horns, lingering about. His blood froze. What if someone should see! Should anyone look up from their work they would see the creature all too clear.

And yet if it were important enough to come to the monastery, Anthony would hear him out. He looked to the toad. “Can you…give him a message?” he whispered to the amphibian.

“To-Lo-ki?”

It was strange to hear the fat toad question him, and Anthony gulped down his nerves. “I am due to clean the cellars today. There is a set of doors behind the dormitories. They are unlatched. I will be alone if he can come.” He said quickly, hoping it was not too long a message to have the toad convey.

The toad made a deep sound, it’s neck pouch inflating as though full of information. It turned and leapt, hopping quickly towards the place where Loki had been.

Some time later, Anthony descended the stairs, coughing softly against the dust. He looked about the shelves of old parchment and manuscripts and looked for his companion. “Loki?”

There was a movement behind a shelf. Golden horns glittered in the dust and shadow and the creature made his appearance. “Hail, Anthony.” He said dryly.

The human flinched to see him. “What became of you these past few nights? You look most troubled.”

Indeed he did. Loki did not walk with his customary gait of confidence. He limped along his left hoof and Anthony could see the gashes along his magnificent body. And yet that coy smile did not never falter. “I was injured in your service, Anthony. Perhaps I am due some reward?”

The monk blushed brightly. Aye, he had missed that part of their encounter as well. “Bah. I thought your kind could not be injured?”

“Not easily, not permanently in most instances.” Loki coiled closer, fingers traipsing along Anthony’s cheekbones. “And what is it then that you think my kind is?”

“A demon.” He responded, but now not so sure. He had often accused Loki of being hellspawn, and yet never once had the entity confirmed it.

“I have seen demons, Anthony my sweet. I have smelled them, fought them, hated them.” Loki smiled a little sadly. “I am no demon.”

“What then are you?” he asked and then waved his hands. This was too much to know. “Never mind. It is not important. But your injuries are. What has happened? Why did you not come to the bower?”

“I have found your butcher my friend.” Loki admitted stiffly, sitting back on an old table. “And if you are so hungry to accuse one of demonic tendencies, than turn your anger to him.”

Taken aback, Anthony braced himself against the wall. “A demon? A true demon then?”

“As true as the sulfur spew that choked me.” The creature said and shivered. “I hate demons, my sweet my dear. I despise them. They are everything that is bile and hate and ruin and I loath them utterly.” Loki gave the priest a slow, soft look. “It has often hurt me that you liken me to them.” Before any response could be had, Loki trembled. “And this troubles me greatly. That a low mortal would be capable of vexing me.”

Anthony felt a heat pool in his stomach. “I…I do not mean to vex you.”

Green eyes, lovely, hungry green eyes turned to him. “Ah but you do. You vex me in so many ways Anthony. You vex me during the long, lonely nights when you do not come to me. You vex me when you lay beneath me, wriggling and eager. And I am oh so terribly vexed when you depart for this drab and unseemly place.” A hand reached out and Anthony was tugged into the creatures arms. “I want to profane this place Anthony. I want you never to venture forth here without a thought of me.”

The blissful need captured him all too easily, and it was nothing to let soft hands travel beneath his robes and hold his cock steady and firm. It took so much will to pull away, to insist on his duty…at least first. “Something must be done about this demon. We cannot leave him to trouble the town and ravage it’s women.”

Loki pouted, looking much put out by this refusal. Yet he gave no more than a gruff sound from his throat. “I have faced him once and he made a mockery of me. I am not a fighter Anthony. I could easily defeat a mortal foe, but this is beyond my ability.”

“Have I given you my life for nothing then?” The man turned, angry and hot and all at once. “Have I sold you my soul when there is naught you can do?”

Loki’s kind face turned dark. “Do not test me. Is there not you can do? You with your Christ god? With your robes and chants and prayer? Are they not meant to drive evil from the presence of ‘goodly people’?” Loki plucked a cross from this air, holding it at a length as though it offended him. “This proved to be of some use against it. Perhaps you should dress in skirts and play the bait!”

Abashed but not broken, Anthony scowled. “Than what are we to do? Loki I cannot leave people to such torment! I can not leave women to death and destruction and hell! I cannot do this again!”

It had escaped his mouth before he caught it, and Loki’s face showed his curiosity. He chuffed, smiling but a little sadly. “Why then do you linger here? In this displaced and despondent cloister? You are not a man of the cloth, cling to though you might. You are a man of action, of agency. It is how we met. It is what you were meant to be. It is why I have retuned again and again to touch and taste you Anthony.” Loki sighed. “Leave with me now. Come with me to this city and give me aid in the defeat of this demon. Together perhaps we could bring him down.”

Oh how his gut roiled at such a thought. To be out in the street again, an avenging force. Had they not done it before? And what a team they had proven to be. “I…must not.” Anthony said then, sighing heavily. “I am here for a purpose. Perhaps you are right. I am no man of god. I have not such goodness in me. But still I must strive to do something of worth. I must…do my penance as is expected of us all.”

“Penance.” Loki said with an air of disgust. “A guilty feeling that lingers does no good to anyone. It is only in restitution that we find our equilibrium.” He hissed over his teeth and licked his lips, thinking. “Very well my Anthony. For you alone I shall make do.” He came closer, standing heads over the mortal. “I may call upon a kin of mine. He is much unlike myself, but he is strong, ever so much stronger than I. And he has made short work of demon spawn before when they threatened our realm.”

“A brother?” Anthony asked, confused. He found himself hard pressed to think of Loki’s kind having siblings.

“My brother. He will come, if I ask it. For I am his favorite. But…” And now the horned man did frown in distress. “He will ask for a boon.”

“I will grant what I can.” Anthony answered cautiously.

“His boon will be to share in you.” Loki crossed his arms and sighed. “He is much more preferential to a woman’s touch, and may indeed find it honorable to venture forth only for the sake of protecting these frail mortal females. But like me, he will require seed and blood to remain in this realm for the turn of the moon. And he will not turn down a taste of your flesh in rut.”

Anthony flushed brightly, grasping for his returned cross. “I shall…be forced to sell myself to him as well?”

“Bah!” Loki’s face became elongated, almost vulpine in its appearance. “As though I would permit it. As though I would allow! You are _mine_ , Anthony. I do not relinquish what I claim.” He gripped the mortal and kissed him with such demanding possession that it left the poor monk reeling. “However, for the sake of my vow to aid you, to serve you, I could be persuaded to share.”

Anthony took a deep breath. Another entity? Another to drive him mad with demands and desires that left him shaking for days? “I…I must think then on this.”

“Think all you wish. It will be some time before the next full moon, and we cannot call on him till then.” Loki shrugged. “But till then, I am here. I require the succor of your body. And I require it **now**.”

“Here! In the church? In the sight of God?” Anthony gasped as Loki’s hands raised his robes like a maid in a tavern and turned him to the wall.

“Here. In the cellar bellow the dormitories.” Loki corrected. “And if God is watching, he may choose to join or avert his eyes. Either way makes little difference to me.”

**XII**

Anthony would never find a touch so loving and yet so demanding as that of Loki. Perhaps it was his injury. Perhaps it was the prospect of being forced to share his mortal even for a moment. But Loki’s mood was rough and ready and it mattered little whether Anthony was prepared or not. Cool stone touched his forehead and in his ear he heard a hungry growl.

“Mine.” Loki breathed and knelt behind the man, pulling his cheeks open to display the human’s pink hole. “And I shall devour you before I allow another to have you.”

He has to press a hand to his lips to stop the warbled cry that tore from him as a wet tongue pressed to his entryway. It was most perverse, and yet the sensation was one was tickling delight. “Loki! Loki what is this you do to me?”

His laughter was light and joyful. “I am devouring you sweet Anthony.”

Indeed he was! That tongue, that wicked, invading tongue probed him open and tasted his depths. As Loki hummed and nuzzled against the crest of him, content as a bear with a honeycomb, Anthony panted hotly, his cheeks blushing as he was taken. The wet swipe against the crevasse did it’s work splendidly, bringing his erection into need.

“And here we are.” Loki’s hand found him and took hold. “Splendid.” He complimented and drew his fingers along the wretched organ. “This will always rise for me, won’t it Anthony.” He teased as he stroked and licked.

Anthony knew not how to response, nor even if he should. Anything that fell from his lips would be addressed later in the cold of his lonely bed. He stood there, holding his robes so that his lower body would be entirely exposed for Loki’s amusement, his body betraying him with every wriggle. As the tongue planted itself inside of him, Anthony could resort to nothing but clawing at the walls as he whimpered with lush pleas. His cock pulsed with response, the little beads of precum dripping from him.

He had missed their woodland trysts. And as Loki did kneel behind him, devouring his pucker, he felt himself submit to the feeling of being this wicked fauns plaything. “What are you?” he asked with rhetorical wonder. “What are you then? A satyr or nymph? Some fair folk fain to bring folly to the men of the cloth? That you would bring me to this, this incomparable moment of ecstasy again and again is a confusion.”

“That you may speak while I dine on you is a confusion.” Loki whispered in the most playful tones. “But perhaps you require more to aid you. I except and shall accept nothing less than rapture from you sweet Anthony.” He parted the cheeks and his tongue dove inhumanly deep, Anthony’s body little more than a vessel for him to drain.

The priest stuck a hand in his mouth to avoid calling out. Wet and open he was being made in this lewd foreplay. And when Loki had finished his meal, the creature rose behind him and pressed his cock lusciously within Anthony. A howl of certain conviction tore forth, and Anthony bleat his pleasure to the stones as he was taken.

“Aye me what a noisy pet you do make.” Loki teased, a hand finding his lovers cock. “I shall have to teach you strict when mine you are.”

Better things there could not be than when his body was stripped bare and made whole. Though scratch the lover did, Anthony found himself lingering upon those spider thin trails in the night, longing them to never heal nor fade from his skin. Ardent in lust and in affection Loki could be and he found himself given to this. For the harder he was taken from behind, the more his body longed to be taken deeper and more penetrative still.

As he was stroked and fondled, Loki took a goblet made of copper and poured the milk of his lust into it, stilling not a moment in his thrusting. “Now then pretty priest, finish me. Up and down finish me into your body.” He demanded in a voice liken to twilight. And Anthony felt the compulsion to press back and let himself do the stroking. Loki’s mouth was warm to the back of his neck and warmer still was the seed he shot into the belly of a priest. “Aye then, well done lover.” He groaned and withdrew, perhaps enjoying the plaintive whine that followed. “Ardent, lovely mortal. Oh such fun I mean to have with you when mine you do become.”

Anthony found whit enough to ask as he lifted himself, unfolding his frock and letting the rough fabric fall to his ankles. “Y-your brother? May he help us? Will you call to him?”

Loki stiffened, appearing most discomforted by the question. “Aye he will. Come again to the bower in the next full moon and we will call him.” And with that he lifted Anthony’s chin and looks at him. “But when he is pressed as I have been and rutting hard like a bull within you, do not forget my name and my love of you. I will not be replaced in any heart, and especially not in yours.”


End file.
